But Annie had seen agony in his eyes, and known better. The way he’d put up a wall around him so she couldn’t get close hurt, but she tried to understand. He wasn’t used to having love in his life. So last night she’d cuddled up against him to reassure him that she, at least, wasn’t going to leave. He’d held her, but made no move to touch her—not even a caress on her cheek. When he was asleep, she cried silently, alone, because she’d felt their relationship ebbing away.
And now, waiting for West to come down to breakfast, Annie was feeling the way she did before going into the courtroom to defend a client she knew was in big trouble. Her insides were clenched with tension, and her lips were so tightly pressed together they felt glued. She was worried. Apprehensive.
Oh, hell, she was just plain scared to death.
“What’s wrong, West?” she asked softly when he came into the kitchen and she saw the guarded look covering the rugged angles of his face. This wasn’t the West she knew. This was someone who was as scared as she felt now—and a hell of a lot more distant. “And please don’t tell me there’s nothing wrong, because there is, and we both know it.”
West poured a cup of coffee, carried it to the table, and sat across from her. He didn’t want to put either of them through this, but he knew he had to. For her sake. “I’m worried, Annie, that we aren’t going to last, because you aren’t going to accept that I don’t want kids.”
“Are you saying you don’t want me?”
“I didn’t say that,” West said, pulling out each word. “I’m just trying to make sure it’s straight between us about any future kids. I know you’re hoping for the best from me, and I’m trying to tell you now, that the best is not in me to give.”
Annie wanted to scream. While they’d had Teddy, West had started to open up his heart, she knew he had. He’d come so close to believing in love again. But now he was much like he’d been the night she’d met him—closed off, guarded. Giving up that baby must have reminded him of the pain of loss. The pain life could inflict.
She knew it well. She felt it now.
“Giving Teddy back hurt, I know, West. It hurt me, too.”
“I know,” he said, his voice quiet and faraway. “I watched you when you said goodbye to Teddy. I saw your face. Can you honestly tell me you’ll be happy for the rest of your life never having a child?” His eyes searched hers as he waited for an answer.
“I’ll give up having a child if it means I have your love.”
He shook his head. “And you’ll find that my love isn’t enough. I saw your eyes, Annie. I read what was in your heart.”
When she said goodbye to Teddy, he meant.
Rising, West walked to the window to gaze out and drink his coffee, his back to her. Wanting to convince him he was wrong, Annie got to her feet, crossed the floor, and put her hand on his shoulder, but West stiffened, showing no sign he wanted her to break down the wall he’d put up.
Annie dropped her hand. Given his background, she understood why he was withdrawing-he was scared he would give his heart to her and she would trample it running from him when she grew desperate to have a baby and he refused. It was all so crystal clear, and it made her ache to the bottom of her heart, for both him and her. Because her having a child in the future was not the real problem.
No, the real problem was that he couldn’t trust her to really love him, unconditionally. He was so determined that he wasn’t going to be hurt again, he was locking up his heart and hiding the key. She didn’t know how to reach him.
“You’re lucky I know how to keep a stiff upper lip, West, otherwise you’d be dealing with some tears right now.”
West said nothing, just continued to look out the window. But the fingers gripping the handle of his coffee mug were turning white.
“Maybe I will break down and cry,” Annie said, biting her bottom lip. “It would serve you right. Maybe you’d finally be forced to deal with your emotions and take a chance, instead of retreating. Maybe tears would show you how much you mean to me.”
He finally gazed down at her. “Annie, I’m sorry, but I can’t change the way I am.”
“The crime of that is, I think you’d like to. I think deep down you really want what your true dream is.”
“And that is?”
“Just like what you wrote, your real dream is sometimes just what you’re most afraid of. With you, West, that’s not our having a child. What you’re really afraid of is falling in love and being abandoned again. Not one thing I say or do is going to change that. Only you can.”
West swore under his breath. “I know how I want my life to be, Annie, and I know about dreams.”
“I don’t think you do,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “Either that, or you’ve forgotten the best part of your book. But unless you go back, reread it, and figure out how to help yourself, I can’t let our relationship continue. I don’t want to stay with a man who won’t trust in the power of love. Thinking I’m going to hurt you, you’ll always be suspicious of me, ready to withdraw.” The tears finally did come then, spilling over, and Annie wiped them away impatiently. “I’m leaving.”
Hating himself for making Annie cry, West watched her go into the living room. It was over. As much as he wanted to think this was for the best, all he could feel was the unrelenting, agonizing pain.all too familiar…the pain he’d been expecting all night.
Only this time he had only himself to blame.
Slamming his fist down, he heard rather than felt the coffee mug shatter against the steel sink. As he stared down at the scattered pieces of brown ceramic, West cursed the day he was born.
10
Gigi swept into Annie’s office minus her accent and
sporting another look-at-me dress, a wide-skirted, lemon chiffon that actually looked beautiful with her masses of auburn hair. “Darling, I need to talk to you.”
“You didn’t have to dress up for that, Aunt Gigi,” Annie said, giving her a forced smile—she couldn’t conjure up the real thing after almost two point five days of being without West—and bending back over the list she’d been looking at. “I keep things pretty casual here on Sundays,” she added as she scratched out an item she’d finished and added another “to do” for tomorrow. “Of course, even I occasionally have to dress up for court, but even so, lemon chiffon might be overdoing it—”
“West Gallagher called me.”
Annie’s widened eyes flew up to stare at Gigi. She’d spent two long days that had stretched into even longer evenings at work, because her apartment felt too empty to go home to. Racking her brain, trying to find some way to convince West they were meant for each other, had turned her into an insomniac. Her nerves were stretched thin, and she was in no mood for a joke-not even one of her aunt’s.
“Don’t try to wreck my good mood with teasing, Aunt Gigi,” she said dryly. “If I get any happier, you may have to bury me.”
“Yes, I can see how happy you are. This is New Orleans, you know. People are superstitious. Better start putting some cover stick on those shadows under your eyes, honey, or your clients are going to think you’re one of the walking dead.”
“I am.”
“He did call, Annie.” Gigi’s eyes possessed not even a hint of the twinkle that Annie previously thought had taken up permanent residence there. Her aunt was not lying to her.
“What did he want?” Annie asked, barely recognizing her voice. “Has he come to his senses yet?”
“He asked me if I knew anything about a part of his book you quoted that he never wrote. The part about your real dream being what you’re most afraid of having.”
“He didn’t write that?”
Gigi shook her head slowly, precisely, and the coral lips of her mouth twisted in a smile. “Believe it or not, I came up with that myself, just for you. I wanted you to examine what you were going after-this baby wish of yours. But you always think everyone knows more than I do, so I told you West wrote it because I figured you’d listen to him.”
“Oh, Aunt Gigi.” Sitting back in her chair, Annie burst into soft laughter. “Poor West. I told him he wrote it and that he should follow his own advice. If he finally resorted to calling you, he must have been going crazy trying to find it in his book.”
“More like he’s been going crazy missing you.”
“Did he say that?”
Gigi waved her hand in the air. “Men. Do they ever say what they mean?”
“West does. West is a great talker.” Annie took a deep breath and sighed. Good Lord, she missed him. “That’s all he wanted?”
“It’s enough. If he’s obsessing about what you told him enough to call me, honey, he’s thinking about you.” Reaching across Annie’s desk, Gigi patted her hand. “It’ll work out.”
“How do you know?”
“Think of your life so far, Annie. You put up with Jean-Pierre’s laziness long after you should have left because his daughter needed you. You became a lawyer so you could help people who need you. And you wanted a baby so someone would need you. Everything you’ve ever done in life has been connected with wanting to be loved and needed. Am I right?”
Annie nodded slowly. Gigi had to be. She certainly couldn’t think of any other explanations for the choices she’d made in her life. Every one of them seemed to stem from the fact that her parents hadn’t wanted her or needed her, and somehow, someway, she was going to find people who did.
‘That’s why I think it’s going to work out,” Gigi said. “You figured out having a baby wasn’t your real dream—falling in love was. You were just wary of getting involved with another man who really didn’t need or want you. But West does, doesn’t he?”
“I think so,” Annie said, nodding.
“Of course he does. West wants love more than anything else, and he knows he can have that with you, he’s just frightened. The key to getting him back is to eliminate his fear about it. Then you two will be free to be happy.”
Considering that, Annie leaned against the padded back of her chair, while Gigi glanced down at her dainty watch and moaned. “Look at the time—I’ve got to get to my performance.” Her black patent leather purse in hand, she stood. “Call me and let me know if you figure anything out.”
Rising, Annie followed her to the door. “I love you, Aunt Gigi.”
“I love you, too, honey.” Gigi stopped long enough to push a tendril of Annie’s hair behind her ear. “Stop worrying—you’ll think of something. You have to—you and West are destined to be together. I read West’s bio in his book. You both started with similar backgrounds, and you’ve both become successes, and he can understand you and your life better than any other man can. If ever two people deserve each other’s love, it’s you and West. He’s just scared right now. Don’t give up.”
“I won’t,” Annie whispered.
Gigi wiggled her fingers and turned to go.
“Aunt Gigi?”
Gigi swirled around, her skirt billowing like a lemon cloud around her.
“West and I may have started the same way, only I was lucky enough to get another mother—you. West didn’t have anyone.”
“He does now, honey.” Gigi’s face went brighteyed with pride. “He has you.”
Blinking back yet another set of tears, Annie smiled at her aunt and waited until she was on the elevator before locking the door to her office. Sitting down behind her desk, she picked up a pen and started to write again, but the only thing on her mind was what her aunt had suggested she do to win West back.
She’d already tried becoming the dream West wanted—she’d loved him with all her might. But eliminating the fear that accompanied her loving him—that had her stumped. She thought it meant she had to convince him she would stick with him through the best and the worst. But how could she do that? How on earth?
A seed of an idea sprouted and took root as Annie considered it. What she wanted to do might only make West mad, not totally convince him they had a future together. On the other hand, it would prove her point, and it would be a great deal of trouble for him to undo.
It might be easier for him to let her stay.
Of course, she would need her aunt’s help and Gigi had been headed toward a busy evening. But that was all right. Tonight she would plan, and tomorrow she would contact Aunt Gigi and take her last shot at happiness.
West paced up and down his rug and finally tossed his notes on the couch in disgust. He might as well hang up his career; he’d lost the ability to concentrate. When he’d broken down and called Gigi the day before, he’d told himself it was because he had to know where Annie’d gotten that idea about a person’s real dream, but he could no longer kid himself. He had been two seconds from asking Gigi if Annie was as miserable as he.
Of course, he’d said goodbye and hung up before he’d made that mistake, but then he’d spent the rest of the day thinking about Gigi’s theory.
What was it he wanted but feared most?
To have a home no one could ever take him out of had been his dream. But judging by the way he was feeling now, all dead inside, without Annie in it, his home had become his tomb. It had probably always been that way, but before Annie—and hell, yes, before Teddy—he hadn’t known enough to realize the difference.
But back to his real dream. What did he really want, but was scared to death to have? Was Annie right? Was it love?
It was love, he realized with a sinking feeling. Annie’s love. He wasn’t hungry, he couldn’t concentrate, and he didn’t even care if he ever gave another seminar. Motivating people to go after their dreams seemed worthless, since he wasn’t destined to have his. He started to shake, because to make his dream come true, he was going to have to risk putting all his feelings on the line, totally commit his heart to Annie, and never worry about her abandoning him again. Until he did, he’d never get her back. But could he do what she said? Could he let go and trust in love again?
The doorbell rang. Frowning, he considered not answering it, half expecting a repeat of last Friday night, when the delivery of a child had turned his world upside down. But the bell pealed again, over and over, and then a fist pounded against the wood. Someone really wanted him to answer. Striding to the door, exasperated, he swung it open.
“Matt!” His brother. The last person he’d expected to see on his doorstep—but maybe he needed a diversion. Maybe, in fact, Matt could help. “C’mon in,” he added, stepping aside.
“Gina’s with me.” Matthew, a lean and slightly shorter version of West, stepped inside, followed by his wife, a petite, dark-haired woman with a great smile. “I know you said the timing wasn’t right to come, but Gina said it was, and I’m sorry. You might be my brother, but I’m married to her. She outvotes you.”
“Hello, West.” Gina was shining that great smile his way, so West smiled back, but his attention was really on his brother. He was supposed to be the outgoing sibling, the one who was good with people, but he didn’t know how to handle this moment. It was only the second time he’d seen Matt in the past twenty years, and the other time had been at Matt’s wedding, when they hadn’t had much time together. They were relative strangers.
“Oh, good Lord, you two,” Gina said, her voice as bright as her smile. “You’re family and this is the nineties. You can hug each other, even if this isn’t a special occasion.”
West did.
“Now me.” Gina reached up and hugged him. While she’d always been sweetly curvy, West sensed there was a whole lot more of her than a few months ago when he’d hugged her at the wedding. Frowning, he pulled back and looked at his sister-in-law. There was a soft glow in her cheeks and a roundness of her stomach under her oversize T-shirt.
He swallowed down a suddenly dry throat.
“Surprise, West,” Gina said, not having to specify what the surprise was. He was going to be an uncle.
A bunch of emotions rocketed through West as he stared first at Matthew, and then back at Gina. Stunned, he was both excited and worried for his brother all
at once. Then the worry won out and choked him up so that he couldn’t speak.
Gina tugged on West’s sleeve. “The next things you’re supposed to say are, ‘That’s wonderful you two, congratulations, and I’d love to pay for his college tuition.’“
He gazed down at her. “If you ever need money for the baby, of course I’ll help you, Gina.”
“I was teasing!” Gina protested in horror. Her huge dark eyes flew to her husband. “Matt, tell him I was just joking!”
“Well, if he’s offering us money….” Matt said with a look of inevitability at his wife, “who am I to protest? He purportedly made a fortune on that book of his, so why should we struggle?”
“Now you develop a sense of humor.” But she quickly forgot her husband in lieu of West, who had won her full attention with his silence. “Are you really upset with us for coming?” she asked.
“No, no, not at all,” West denied. He was worried though—about their baby and about the future of his brother’s marriage. Matthew and Gina currently had a commuter marriage, with Matt, an air-force pilot, flying all the time out of Virginia, and Gina running her bridal shop in Ohio. He had to ask. “With the baby coming, you aren’t going to keep things as they’ve been, are you?”
“That’s the other reason we came to New Orleans, West,” Matt said, slipping his arm around Gina and pulling her close. “I’m interviewing for a job flying for a commuter airline. If I take it, Gina plans to sell her house and her business to her manager, and we’ll be neighbors. She wants to be a full-time mother.”
Full-time mother. Thinking about Annie and her dream that would never be, West’s misery doubled up its fist and punched him in the gut. “You’re moving here because of me?” he asked, his throat tight, torn between agony about Annie and happiness over having his brother near again.
The One-Week Baby (Yours Truly) Page 13